


Always on Your Side

by Anam_Cara



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Maybe Starkcest- the characters haven't told me that yet, Series Spoilers, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-07
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:56:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anam_Cara/pseuds/Anam_Cara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Snow meets Arya Stark on the battlefield. Chaos insues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jon- A Different Kind of Home Coming.

**Author's Note:**

> "You always hurt the one you love. The one you didn't mean to hurt at all."

It had been a bad few months for Jon Snow. He was currently battling Lannister forces in the North. He had been killed by his sworn Brothers, Melisandre had brought him back to life and the Night’s Watch had thrown him out for his actions and because no one wanted him at the Wall anymore due to his resurrection. So here he stood with Stannis’s forces battling the Lannister’s. Jon’s mind was not on the battle. So many things were going through his head. Jon could not focus his mind. All that kept going through it was the death of the Bitch Queen. Cersei Lannister died weeks ago but thoughts of her murder plagued him. It was said that Jaime Lannister had killed Queen Cersei. That Jaime had walked into her apartments past the guards and Ilyn Payne and Robert Strong and strangled the queen. Then supposedly came out and killed both Ilyn and Robert Strong. Jon might have believed it had Jaime not died by Jon’s own sword the day before the queen’s death. Who had ended the Queen Bitch was a mystery. When Jon and Stannis asked Melisandre had said that it was nobody. That nobody had killed the queen. Why this was upper most in his thoughts during battle he could not fathom.

Jon Snow stood tired and bloody in the midst of battle. Everything had slowed down for him. His most recent opponent dead; at his feet; Jon’s heart pounded so loud and hard in his chest he thought it would explode from his chest. Breathing raggedly, Jon noticed a boy staring at him. A thin youth in a leather cloak. It’s cowl concealing the youth’s face. As the battle carried on around them the youth with the slim small sword stood staring at Jon. The lad tilted his head to the side as if trying to figure some riddle. Jon stared back perplexed by the youth’s curiosity. Jon wondered if he knew the lad. Jon wondered in irritating doubt if the youth meant to harm him.

 

Suddenly the youth sprang into a run and was coming straight at him. Jon turned to fully face his enemy and went into battle stance. The youth neared him and leaped at Jon. Jon brought up his sword instinctively as the youth dropped his out of harm’s way. Jon felt his sword slice into the lad’s side and he caught the lad as boy fell. The youth’s cowl fell back and Jon saw one of the dearest faces to his heart etch into pain and shocked surprise. 

Jon saw the smile wipe from her sweet mouth. All the joy in her grey eyes replaced by sorrow, hurt and surprise.

“Arya??” Jon gasped and caught her closer.

She raised a shking hand to his face, smiled and said, “ You were supposed to catch me.”


	2. Arya- Joy & Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Jon meet on a battlefield

Nobody had been coming through an alley in Bravos and dodging water rats as big as cats. She had dispensed with gift to a man called Comber who had raped and murdered his brother’s bride on her wedding day. He had wanted the girl but she had gone soft in the head for his younger brother; a silk merchant. Nobody had done her job cleanly and disposed of him well. That’s when she heard the two men in Black Watch cloaks talk of the death of Jon Snow.

They were talking; these Brothers; about how others of their order stabbed Jon Snow.

“To give it all up for a sister? Then the girl isn’t your sister at all? All Jon wants is to kill Ramsay Snow for Arya Stark.”

The gangly idiot beside him smirking leer, “She must be some sister.” 

Nobody stood her world spinning Jon had given up the Watch for her? They killed him for it? Her dream of his dying in the ice cave had seemed so real? Could it have been like warging? Could Jon possibly be alive in that ice cave? She must go home. Go see if she could help Jon. She owed him that much at the very least. She took off at a pelting run for the House of Black and White.

Once inside she saw the Waif. “Where is he, Waif?” 

“He awaits you in his rooms.” 

Arya made her way to his inner sanctum and moved to knock but before her hand could strike the weirwood door to knock, she heard his voice.

”There is no need,Girl. Just enter!” Said the voice of the Kindly Old Man

 

Unsurprised by the man knowing she was there, Arya opened the door and walked in. She hurried over to him and he raised a brow. “So Girl Who are you?”

“I am Arya of house Stark. I will always be Arya of House Stark. I MUST leave here today!”

“Leave here? Why would you think of leaving us before you become one of us?”

“Because my brother needed me.”

“Brother? Did this brother not need you before today?”

“Maybe. I did not know he did. He took vows to be at the Wall. He left me.”

“So, you left him back and came here?”

Arya nodded, “Yes. I ran away. I need to go back for him. I need to help him. He is alive in an ice cave.”

“Did you think you can just leave?” His kindly face became stern and cold. “Not many leave here willingly without giving something up.”

“I will give you anything if I can get home to Jon.”  
“You must do a job for us. We want you to go back to King’s Landing and kill Cersei Lannister.”

Arya staggered back, “I know her. I cannot do this for you.”

“Yes,Girl,I am aware. That is exactly why you are going back. You got out of the Tower of the Hand. You have kept her in your prayers all this time. Is it not time to take her out of your prayers? We will send you back. We will give you supplies and money but you must do this and be will call the slate cleansed.”

She had done the job and here she stood not believing her own eyes. Surely, what she saw before her was a ghost, a mist, a figment of her past. As always she heard her dance instructor’s voice in her head,  
“Your mind is playing tricks girl. Use all your senses and keep to the dance.” Her mind; which previously had been on the job the House of Black and White sent her to do; was now focused to one man in this battle. She tried with her other senses but the image did not go away. He was not a figment of wish, want and desire of her past. 

The man was her brother, Jon Snow. Next to her father, he was the one person in her world who loved her best. Jon Snow meant everything. Jon meant home. Arya knew she was tired. Tired of running, tired of fighting and tired of not being loved. Arya was sure her loss of everything she loved was over because here was Jon to set everything right and help her remember.

Arya felt herself bolt toward him. The only destination she wanted was his arms. She ran to him as if nothing else mattered. She ran toward him the way she’d always done because here was someone who loved and cared if she lived until the morrow. Arya felt she did not want to lose her past again. He was everything that mattered. He would remember how they use to hug. How she would leap into his arms as is nothing else in the world mattered, because it hadn’t.

Arya ran for all she was worth. Jon turned more fully toward her direction. Her instincts were down and she did not see his sword come up. She leaped at him and did not even know at first that he had sliced into her until she felt the burn of the blade and fire of the wound.

As her cowl fell back and she looked into his eyes, Arya raised her hand to touch the face she loved so much. “You were supposed to catch me." Arya heard Jon call out her name.


	3. Jon- Broken

Arya, his sweet,fierce, funny sister who loved him more than anyone else had ever loved him. She was back from nowhere and bleeding in his arms. Jon could feel it hot and sticky on his hands. Jon’s senses came awake and the world around him snapped back into action. Jon yelled for help.   
The battle was nearly over but the carnage ran deep. Several of his men ran to his side. Jon shouted again, “Get me a maester . QUICK!”  
Jory Cassel’s older brother Torran came running over to Jon. “Are you wounded? “  
“Not me, Torr. I need one for—” Jon struggled on what to call her.  
“Arya’s eyes rolled in her head and she went limp in his arms. Jon screamed her name, then turned to Torr and said,”By every God, Torran, GET ME A MAESTER!”  
“Maester? Are you sure it’s not the digger with a winding sheet, you’re needing?” Then he stopped “Did you call her...”  
“GET ME... Forget it.” Jon ran to the tent where the wounded were being treated. He raced to the old healer and said, “My sis —I need help. Save her.” Torran close on his heels was anxiously looking over Jon’s shoulder.  
“Her??” the wizened old man raised a bushy eyebrow. The healer saw the deadly look this young supposed King of the North nodded. The supposed new King of the North so rare to fury with his people looked fierce about this limp bleeding waif in his arms.  
“You must save her! She is MINE! This is Arya.” Jon’s voice was desperate.  
“Thought Lord Ned’s daughter died?” the old man moved as fast as his ancient bones could. The maester turned seeing the commotion this was stirring in the wounded on both sides of this battle. “Mayhap my lord, Ned’s wolf pup needs a more private place for me; to bare her body; to treat her wounds.”  
Jon looked around. He called some of these men his friend. He trusted some of them with his life but he did not trust them with Arya’s. She needed care and he did not want it to be in front of all these warriors with their hungry eyes.  
Torr coughed and said, “Maybe your tent, Jon.” Jon nodded grasping her close and moving to the small tent that was supposed to make up Jon’s quarters on this battle. Jon never used it. He preferred to be outdoors with his men. Often, it was used by his council to plan battle strategy. None of that mattered to the still small form in his arms. “Yes, my tent. Please hurry, Maester Tolkien.” The old man gathered satchels and cases. He called to his young apprentice and Torr to carry all these things it would take to heal a body. 

Torr cleared his throat. “Old man, I am not here to fetch and carry for you. I am needed out in the field.”  
Maester Tolkien sniffed in derision and said, “You will go where the King of the North says to.”  
“Torr, this is Arya!” Jon growled moving out of the medical tent and down a line of other tents.  
Torran nodded, “Sure about that? There been at least four false Arya Starks.”  
“I know this one. This is Arya. This is MY Arya!”  
“We are needed out among the men.” Torran Cassel said defensively.  
“Do you think my mind would be there? Go and handle the end of this. It is done but for the clean-up. It would be where Arya is. If she dies, I will have killed her. The person I loved the most, the only person to love me back and I might have killed her.” Jon’s face became bleak with hurt.  
“Can you be sure it’s her?” Torr questioned  
“As sure as I am that if your hands weren’t full you’d be biting your nails and asking if we’ve food for a feast.”  
Torr raised a brow. “Do we? I am feeling a might peckish”  
Jon laughed at the huge man. “You are always hungry. If you eat now you will only toss it up when you see all the blood and gore of battle.”  
Jon laid Arya down on his cot and moved back. Torran put his burdens down and said, “I could stay with Lady Arya. You could return to battle.”   
The old maester coming through the door snorted and said, “You both should go. I must undress ‘er and I don’t want you both underfoot.”  
Jon never one to throw either weight or his title around growled, “Old man, I am king here. This lady means more to me then my own life. I stay where she stays and go where she goes. She is mine. Here I stay by her side.”  
The old man snorted and nodded and Torran raised his eyebrows and coughed, “My liege, I am off to the battle. I will keep our men well. You keep Lady Arya out of a tomb.”   
“Torr, find if she came with anyone.” Jon’s voice got grim “She could have married.”  
Hearing Jon choke on the words, Torr bowed, “I will do my best Jon. If she came with our enemies her—husband or lover might be dead.”

“If there is such a man, bring him to me.” Jon’s voice was cold as ice.  
“Will you kill him too?” Torr asked softly  
Jon turned to scowl fiercely and his friend bowed again and departed the tent.  
Jon turned to the old man fussing over the girl in the bed. His beloved Arya was here. He noticed the changes in her and the things that had stayed the same she was still cat slim and sleek. Jon laughed at he realized her face was still dirty. Her mother and Sansa would cluck their tongues in displeasure at her dressed like a boy in breeches. Her was face still long and pale but there was a strength and grace now. Her hair was a ragged dark cloud to her shoulder. It was braided with colored leather cord.   
Jon noticed the changes to age and womanhood. He swallowed hard on the distaste he found her appealing. Most of his life he’d heard tales of Lyanna Stark; the wild beauty; and how Arya was just like her. His father had said that Arya had her features. In Arya now, Jon could see a beauty men would go to war to have. Jon came to his senses when the old man thrust a metal object at him.   
The old man snorted, “God’s teeth she’s well-armed. She had a hard grip on this must mean something special to ‘er.”  
He looked at the metal object in his hands and hung his head. The metal was stained like his hands and clothes were stained with Arya’s blood. The object she held on to do firmly was the last thing he gave her. Needle sat in his own hand the steel still warm from her body.  
When Jon lifted his head there were tears on his cheeks as well as the thin blade. “How is her wound Maester Tolkien? Will she die from it?”  
“Well tis not good but if you were to be stabbed, tis not a bad place to be poked.”  
“That is clear as mud, old man. Will she die this day?”  
“I will not lie. She might. Then so might we all. The wound did not hit the vitals. See how the wound bleeds red? Tis better to that then if you see dark. I owe you, your highness. I owe Ned Stark too. I owe you more than I can ever repay. Now hush and let me work.”  
Jon just nodded. His sense of guilt was overwhelming. He had made her bleed. He looked closer and saw the scars and bruises as previous older hurts.   
Jo whispered softly, “What’s happened to you? Where have you been?”  
The old man poked the wound again. Causing it to bleed and making her twitch. Then he brought a sponge with noxious smell to her lips and nose.   
“What is that?” Jon snapped  
The young boy that was the maester’s apprentice told him hesitantly, “It is a draught, Lord Jon. It will make her sleep while we cleanse the wound and sew her up.”  
Jon looked at the youth and tried to smile but couldn’t. The tension in Jon was too high for him to smile. He thought it ironic that the Gods or Fates had given him back one of the few people he loved best in his life and he might have killed her.  
Ned Stark had once told him that many men only remember their Gods on the battlefield. Jon acknowledged that because he’d seen it with his own eyes. The feeling was alive inside him now but not from battle. His biggest fear was having killed the one he loved best.  
The maester nodded “It looks more like a nasty slice then a stabbing her through. She does not have a hole on the other side. I’ll need more light and that hot water on the fire.”  
Jon scrambled to find every light source he could and told the boy to go for the water. Gathering torches and candles Jon asked the maester if it was enough. “For now Lord Jon it will be enough.” The man cut away most of Arya’s shirt and Jon turned his gaze away from her breasts. The old man brought a cloth to cover her from views. The boy brought warmed water from the fire. The lad said to Jon, “It seems to help the wounded if water has been heated.”  
Maester Tolkien snapped, “Leave Lord Jon alone and go and get the clove oils.” The boy ran to get the clove oil. Jon asked, “Why clove oil?”  
“It will help cleanse the wound.” The boy replied handing the maester a towel. Seeing this lord did not rebuke him the lad smiled. This noble was kind. “Later we will put on a salve that smells much worse.”  
“Boy,” growled the old man “don’t bother the Warden of the North with your yammering.”  
“I don’t mind his talk, old man. His explanations keep me from pestering you like a child after a treat.”  
The old man asked insolently, “Is she a treat?”  
“Watch where your tongue goes, old man! She is my sister and special to me.”  
“Sorry.” To his assistant “Boy, I will need a needle and thread.”  
Jon smiled for the first time, finding the humor in a girl with no sewing skills was being sewed upon by a man who had an excellent hand with a needle. The old maester then slathered a bandage with a pungent smelling poultice. He then ordered the boy to clean up and douse the lights. “I will be back later to check on her, my lord. Clemm after everything is clean come back to the medical tent. My lord, get her a woman to tend her needs.”  
“She will live?” Jon asked eagerly   
“It is all up to her now. It is her will if she lives or passes through the veil.” The old man left and after several minutes the lad Clemm left too. Jon was left alone at last with his Arya.   
As the boy left, Ghost bound trough the tent opening. Ghost sat near Arya’s bedside and whined plaintively. Ghost moved to nudge Arya. The direwolf whined again and looked to Jon sadly. Jon knew how the wolf felt. To be this near her after almost giving up ever seeing her again, to have her be this way because of his own actions was torture. Jon covered her form in a large bear skin. Ghost jumped up to lie beside her and Jon moved to sit on the ground at her side and moved near her ear.  
Jon lowered his head and began to talk to her. “Hello, little sister. I’ve missed you. It’s been so long since we’ve been together. Have you missed me? Please Arya, wake up! I have missed you so much. I am sorry to be the one to hurt you. Live for me Arya. Ghost and I have missed you so much.”  
The girl lay as still as a gravestone statue.   
“Please you have to wake up. I have so much to tell you. I am sure you are full of stories for me. Please for me, tell me your stories. I will listen until my ears go numb. Please don’t die on me now I have found you. Come back love. I’ll beg you. Come back to me. Don’t leave me alone here.”  
Arya didn’t move and Ghost put his large head on Arya’s stomach. Jon sat looking at Arya wondering what had happened to the young girl he’d loved. The girls smile could light his world and warm his heart. She had been the one to care for him most. Arya was the song in his heart but the voice in his head blamed himself for stabbing her. Jon drifted off to sleep, laying his head down by her hand.

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a horrible fear that the Big Man (GRRM) will have them meet without a nicer ending.


End file.
